Caritas
Disclaimer: Too poor to own them, too obsessed not to play with them.
Summary: Where Spike went.
Reviews: Yes, please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!
A/N: I'm totally loving how everyone thinks Spike went looking for Dawn and Jake. (insert evil laughter)
Demonica Mills: Yep, total adoration going on here.
Sibling Creature: Do you really think Dawn told Jake anything the Senior Partners don't already know?
WayWard Childe: WELCOME BACK! So glad you're feeling better. Please tell Faith thanks for her help with that. Take care of yourself to prevent a relapse. The Order of Taraka? Please no. It's the evil alter ego I swear it. I didn't do it.
The song is something I stumbled across on MusicSongLyrics website by some group (?)/artist (?) I've never heard of. It's 'Damned If I Do' by Life of Agony. So I don't know the melody, I just thought it sounded sad enough for the guitar and the words seemed so perfect for Spike's situation. I know this is kind of a spoiler for the chapter but I think the title probably gave it away already.
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Spike listened to Xander leave. He gave up the pretense of sleeping and rolled back over, draping an arm over his eyes. So much to process. It seemed impossible. He could remember everything but some of it still felt out of order. The clearest memories were the most recent ones, Buffy, the near-rape, the soul and dying. Feeling the flames tear through him. Heaven. The memory of Dawn treating him like a stranger stung. He'd loved her so much he'd nearly died protecting her and one moment of insanity had ripped it all apart.
Suddenly he sat up. This was useless. Lying around feeling sorry for himself was going to put him right back in the basement. He rose from the bed and went into the shower. He stood under the hot water for a long time, letting the warmth seep into his cool body. Finally, he summoned enough interest to actually wash, doing it quickly and getting out. He rummaged through his bag someone had been thoughtful enough to bring up and found his clean clothes.
Once dressed, he debated briefly on what to do next. Irrationally, he felt the need for a drink. He hadn't fed in several hours but could not bring himself to actually go downstairs and face them. He remembered something Harris had said; Angel knew a demon that owned a club. He wished with all his unbeating heart he'd asked what the name of it was. Maybe this demon was good enough a friend of Angel's he'd extend a little credit.
Spike stuck his head out of the door and checked the hallway. The coast seemed to be clear. He couldn't hear anything from the others but since he didn't extend his vampire senses, he wasn't trying to hear them. His room was at the top of the stairs leading down to the lobby. He turned away from the stairs and silently walked down the hall hoping for a back staircase. Luck was with him and he stealthily descended into a vast expanse of kitchen. He quickly located the back door and slipped out into the mid-afternoon sunshine.
He tilted his head back to enjoy the warm rays. It still wigged him out a little being in the sun. Was it only yesterday he'd joyfully discovered his new gift? He realized that it was indeed a gift, something to make his return a little more palatable. He snorted derisively, like it made up for Heaven. Briefly he wished for a cigarette and his duster. The cigarettes he hadn't remembered smoking until just a little while ago so it was more of an attempt to capture something of his prior life. The duster was probably still in the lobby and the thought of retrieving it was repulsive enough to quell the need for it.
After several failed tries, the spies from Wolfram and Hart determined that they couldn't enter the old hotel. They had been told to watch for a vampire with bleached platinum hair and a long black duster. The brunette who slipped out into the sun did so under their not-so-observant eyes. He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, striking off in a random direction hoping against hope that he would stumble upon the club the Whelp had mentioned. Unaware that two of the people he cared for most in the world were now the subject of the drama unfolding in the lobby of the old hotel. No one noticed the slim figure in black strolling aimlessly along the sidewalk and away from the hotel that housed almost everyone who mattered to him.
Spike thought later that he must have been unconsciously following an old scent of Angel's as he found the club with surprising ease. He looked up at the neon sign with bemusement. Caritas – sanctuary. He fervently hoped so. Pulling open the door, he was soothed by the atmosphere he found in the nightclub. A tall green demon with red horns in his forehead and red eyes strode out from behind the bar to greet him. Spike had never seen a demon like him before and it disconcerted him.
"Well, hello! Welcome, although I must admit we're not quite open for the day yet." Lorne stopped and appraised Spike in surprise. "How did you get here? You being a vampire and all, it's a little bright out there, isn't it, Sunshine?"
Spike smiled shyly. "I seem to be a Daywalker." He explained. He was a little blinded by the shocking orange jacket that the demon wore casually. He blinked and looked up at the being he hoped would befriend him. "Are you Lorne?"
Lorne smiled broadly, charmed by the shyness of the Daywalker's smile. "That would be me, Sweetcheeks. What can I do for you?"
"You know Angel, right?" Spike began.
"Angelkins and I go way back. If you're a friend of his, well, the bar is open." Lorne gestured expansively.
"I…um… don't have any money." Spike ducked his head at the hesitant admission.
Lorne nodded. "Well, then. We'll just run a tab and let Angel-pie take care of it for you." He slung an arm over Spike's slender shoulders and led him to a chair at the bar.
Lorne took his place behind the bar and spread his arms. "What will it be, Sugarplum?"
"A beer?" Spike asked after a moment's consideration.
A huge grin met the request. "Judging by the delicious accent, I'm betting that you would enjoy something imported." Lorne brought out a bottle of dark lager from Europe. Spike's face lit up at the familiar label. He lifted the cold container to his mouth and closed his eyes in bliss as the rich flavor hit his tongue.
"If you're going to enjoy every bottle like that, I'm going to have to give you a private room." Lorne told him with a smile. He appreciated the sight of the vampire with his platinum tipped curly hair; deep sapphire eyes framed by dark lashes and sculpted cheekbones to die for. He hadn't seen anyone so scrumptious in a very long time.
Spike's eyes sparkled with humor as he carefully set the bottle on the bar. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've had one of these. I'll try to restrain myself."
"Not on my account, Blue Eyes. I love it when someone enjoys their drink." Lorne waved away the apology. "As long as they know when they've had enough enjoyment."
Spike nodded. "No worries there, Mate. Didn't plan on getting toasted. Just wanted to escape for a bit, is all."
Lorne's face took on a look of intense curiosity. "And just what would a sweetie like you need to escape from?"
"It's a long boring story." Spike looked down at the bar, slender fingers folding a cocktail napkin, all traces of humor erased.
"Hey, I own this place. I can devote as much of my time to a favored customer as I want." Lorne pointed to a booth in the far corner. "Let's move to my private space and you can tell Uncle Lorne all about it." He caught the hesitation on Spike's face. "If I'm going to know your life history, I'm going to need a name. Not that I'll use it but…" He shrugged.
Spike laughed. Lorne was shocked to hear a little hysteria in it. "A name. Which one would you like? I was born William, then I was reborn as Spike…"
Lorne interrupted him. "You're Spike? Closing the Hellmouth? Saving the world? That Spike?"
Another humorless laugh broke free. "I see my reputation precedes me." Lorne moved over to the private booth. Spike got up and followed him, unsure exactly why. He settled into the rich upholstery and took another greatly appreciated sip of his drink.
"Anyway, for the last four months, I've been known as Will. Pretty much because I didn't know who I was." Spike rested his head on his fist and studied his beer bottle. "I still don't."
Lorne's red eyes gazed sympathetically at the Daywalker. "Does Angel know you're here?"
"Here in LA or here in your place?" Spike closed his eyes as he asked the question.
"Here in LA, Sugarplum." The green demon clarified.
Spike nodded wearily. "Oh, yeah. He helped me get my memory back. They don't know I'm here. I couldn't face them. I couldn't…" He broke of as his voice failed.
"You couldn't face the people who left you to die in that pit." The insightful statement surprised Spike, but he nodded.
"You've heard the story then?" Spike smiled sadly.
Lorne nodded. "From Xander, Buffy, Dawn, Angel and just about everyone else who knew you or were there. They mourned you and they blamed themselves. Buffy and Angel especially were guilt ridden over your demise. I've never had a sadder bunch of people in here before or since."
"It's wrong to feel this way. I love them. How can I blame them for something I chose to do?" He finished his beer and set the bottle aside.
Lorne studied him for a moment. "Sing for me."
"Oh bollocks! No way." Spike shook his head in disbelief.
"I read people, I can see their past, present and future when they sing. I can see the reasons behind things. I can help you. And you won't have to go through the pain of telling me." Lorne finished his explanation in a softer voice.
"I can't sing." Spike tried, but stopped as Lorne shook his head.
"You can't lie to me either, Pumpkin." Lorne admonished.
The vampire shrugged in defeat. "Do you have a guitar?" Spike asked.
Lorne nodded and got up, motioning for the vampire to follow. The club had opened while they had been talking so there was a sizable crowd already in attendance. Spike balked a little as the peaceful demon led him up to the stage, snagging a guitar from behind the bar on the way.
Spike settled on a stool positioned in the center of the stage and strummed the guitar softly for a moment. The crowd settled down as they noticed the slim muscular vampire spotlighted on the stage. Appreciation rustled through the assorted demons watching the handsome performer. They grew silent as he began to sing.
Why do I feel so alone in a crowd of people I know
Is it wrong to feel so insecure so unappealing?
Why walk around in disguise with a fake grin on my face?
What would it prove?
What would I gain?
I'd still feel so out of place
Damned if I do
Damned if I don't
But I won't turn out like you
Midlife crisis at the age of 22
Who knew?
I need some answers
Cross the street and down the avenue
I stopped for the woman
Paid five bucks and got my palm read
And she said
You shouldn't be smiling boy
This life line says you're already dead
Just keep on moving forward never turning back
But with every step ahead I take they pull me two steps back
They pull me two steps back
He strummed the guitar softly for a few more seconds before placing his fingers over the strings. The crowd shook itself from its stunned silence to burst into applause for the vampire's amazing singing voice. Spike's burnished head hung low for long moments before the noise registered and he looked up with a surprised smile. Lorne joined him on the stage and gently took the guitar. He leaned it against the stool and led the weary Daywalker back to the private booth. A fresh beer was waiting for Spike when he sat down. He picked it up like a lifeline and took a long swallow then sat back. He rested his head on the cushion with his eyes closed for several minutes, trying not to let it show that he was fighting back tears.
Lorne studied the most unusual creature he'd ever had the privilege of reading. This man had saved the world. He was a vampire who'd earned Heaven. He debated over the best way to soothe the torment he could plainly see even before the song.
He reached over and patted Spike's hand. "You should eat, Sweetling. I'll have the bartender bring you something, some of Angel's special stuff, if you know what I mean. I have to go attend to some business. It will give you a chance to compose yourself."
After a short word with the bartender, Lorne went into his office, closed the door and picked up the phone. He dialed a number from memory and waited for it to be picked up. "Hi, it's me. I need your help with something."
